


Interim

by Skylark



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, Love Confessions, M/M, Pokemon - Freeform, Pre-Canon, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 00:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4159527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark/pseuds/Skylark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bokuto's laugh was raucous and hoarse, reminiscent of the seagulls that flew overhead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interim

**Author's Note:**

  * For [latenights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/latenights/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Временно](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4512309) by [impaladude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impaladude/pseuds/impaladude)



Kuroo came home from a volleyball game with a wild-haired boy at his heels and his mother asked, "Who's this?"

The honest answer— _I don't know_ —hovered on the tip of his tongue. He glanced back at the boy, whose eyes were bright and wide, whose grin made him want to grin back even though he didn't know what the joke was, and thought better of it.

"A friend," he said. It had been true ever since.

\--

Bokuto's laugh was raucous and hoarse, reminiscent of the seagulls that flew overhead. The summer sun reflected off his wild hair, his reddened forearms, his legs that glistened with sand and saltwater. The ocean roared a short distance away, but it hadn't held Bokuto's attention for very long. Nothing did, except for volleyball—and Kuroo.

Kuroo's receive was polished and clean after years of practice with Kenma. Bokuto's was less so, and the ball glanced off his forearms at a wild angle. He shouted with surprise and Kuroo's body moved on instinct, diving for the ball and popping it back into the air. Sand exploded outward as he slid on his belly across the beach.

"All right, all right!" Bokuto called, receiving it properly this time. It arced in the air, flashing for a moment in the summer sun, and then landed with a muffled thump. "...Kuroo?"

Kuroo groaned face-down in the sand. There was sand in places he didn't know he had. His mouth felt gritty. He was going to have to wash his hair for _hours._

Bokuto laughed even as he tried to brush sand off of him, quick brushes across his neck and back and calves. "Nice save," he gasped, "are you okay?"

Wearily, Kuroo lifted his head and spat out a mouthful of sand. "I'm dead," he said. "I'm dead, and your shitty receive killed me."

He took the hand that Bokuto extended to him, his fingers locking around Bokuto's wrist. Bokuto's skin was warm, more tanned than his own after all the summer sun, and the pressure of his grasp was a welcome distraction from the friction burns on Kuroo's elbows and knees.

The image for some reason burned itself into Kuroo's mind—his long fingers wrapped around Bokuto's sturdy arm, a study in contrast like sunlight stippling through tree leaves.

\--

They were born and raised in a big city like Tokyo, so small-town tropes didn't really apply. Even Kenma lived a train ride away. But Kuroo and Bokuto were childhood friends too, after a fashion: friends who met in their first year of middle school; who lived across the city from each other but still ended up hanging out every weekend; who sometimes spent days communicating in nothing but emojis, selfies, and ridiculous animal pictures.

They applied to some of the same high schools, but Kuroo didn't think they'd pick the same one. Kuroo loved raising his eyes during his serve and meeting Bokuto's fierce gaze, loved smiling lazily at his friend across the net and receiving a grin in return. So when Kuroo chose to go to Nekoma and Bokuto to Fukurodani, they only ribbed each other a little bit.

"Doesn't Nekoma have some big rival?" Bokuto asked, feet kicking over the edge of Kuroo's bed. 

Kuroo couldn't stop himself from glancing across the room, where Kenma was watching anime on the small TV and only half-listening to their conversation. Kenma hadn't told him which school he wanted to attend next year, and even though Kuroo was _pretty_ sure Kenma would follow him like always, the uncertainty made him want Kenma to listen when he talked about Nekoma. 

Kuroo shrugged, leaning against his bookcase. "Yeah. They're all the way in Miyagi and I don't think they're any good anymore. The upperclassmen say we haven't played them in ages."

Bokuto looked up from the manga he was reading. "Hey, maybe our schools can be rivals instead!" he said. "The owls and the cats. Sounds awesome, right?"

"You think Fukurodani can keep up?" Kuroo drawled.

Bokuto's feet flailed in the air before he shoved himself upright, leaning forward with bright eyes. "Is that a challenge? You challenging me?"

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. "I don't know if it's much of a challenge. How many spikes did he manage to get past me again, Kenma?"

"Five today," Kenma answered without looking away from the TV.

Bokuto's eyes flared with temper. "Next time!"

"Sure, sure," Kuroo said.

Bokuto folded his arms, clearly stewing, before he threw his hands in the air. "Ahh, I can't take it! Kenma, set for me! I'm gonna kick this guy's butt!"

"I don't want to," Kenma muttered.

"How about a card game instead," Kuroo said, and Bokuto's head swiveled to stare at him—just like an owl. _He really did choose the right school,_ Kuroo thought to himself.

Ten minutes later, their shouting had gotten so loud that Kuroo's mother checked on them to see if they had killed each other.

"Sorry, Kuroo-mama," Bokuto said, slightly breathless from the headlock Kuroo had him in. 

"You really are good friends, aren't you," she said with a sigh. "Kenma, can you give me a hand? It seems these two are too busy to help me with my baking."

In a flash, Kuroo and Bokuto were out the door and stampeding down the stairs to the kitchen. Kuroo's mother shared a look with Kenma before she started laughing.

\--

The whistles blew and the scoreboard was updated to its final tally: _Fukurodani 20 - Shiratorizawa 25._

Kuroo was already on his feet and leaving the bleachers before the teams shook hands. The stadium's back hallways were quiet since everyone was still watching the ongoing games. He reached Fukurodani's locker room and settled in to wait.

The team captain slowed in his steps when he recognized Kuroo standing by the door. "Hey," Kuroo said, raising a hand. They'd met previously, during the few times he'd visited Bokuto's practices, and so they both knew why Kuroo was there without having to speak.

Fukurodani's captain nodded as he went by, but otherwise said nothing as he moved into the locker room. The rest of the team passed in equal silence.

Kuroo slipped on his earbuds to distract himself while he waited, fingers tapping a rhythm along with the music off his iPod. After a while the team started to filter back out into the hall, some of them sneaking glances at him as they waited for everyone else to finish cleaning up. Kuroo smirked at them and they frowned back, shuffling a little further away.

Finally the captain came back out, now in street clothes with his hair damp. He glanced at Kuroo. "He's..."

"Yeah, I know," Kuroo interrupted. "I'll take care of it. Good work today."

"Thanks," the captain said, and gave him a pat on the shoulder before picking up his bag and leading the rest of the team away. 

Kuroo opened the darkened locker room to hear the rush of water, and followed the sound to the showers.

Bokuto was turned away from him, hands braced against the wall and head lowered against the spray. His hair was flattened into slick tendrils that draped down his neck. The faint light glimmered off of his wet shoulders, down the muscles of his back to his tapered waist, down to thick thighs and well-defined calves. Latent strength was clear in every line of Bokuto's body, and Kuroo knew how hard he'd worked for every bit of it—the late practices, the training regimens, the morning runs no matter the weather.

Kuroo had been with him through all of it.

"Hey," he said quietly. 

Bokuto didn't move.

Kuroo sighed, then stepped forward. The water was ice cold as it splashed against his arm, and he winced before turning the shower off.

"Hey," he repeated more loudly. At this angle all he could see of Bokuto's expression was the curve of his cheek, dimpled from the effort of pressing his lips together.

Kuroo left to grab a towel from Bokuto's bag. When he returned, he snapped his fingers in front of Bokuto's face, making him flinch, and then dragged the rough cloth down Bokuto's spine. "Come on," he said, tugging on Bokuto's arm.

Bokuto held the towel in place once Kuroo slung it around his waist, and didn't resist when he was pulled towards the locker room and pushed down onto a bench. Kuroo turned away to dig another towel out of his bag and then attacked Bokuto's hair with it. Bokuto stared at the floor, neither resisting nor helping.

"At least you won't catch a cold," Kuroo quipped. 

Bokuto didn't laugh, and Kuroo sighed.

"Do the rest yourself," he ordered, shoving the towel at Bokuto once he was dry enough to stop dripping all over the floor. Once Bokuto's hand had inched up to grasp the cloth, Kuroo turned away to dig Bokuto's clothing out of his bag and place them on the bench.

Bokuto's motions were slow and dreamlike, but eventually he was dry and fully dressed, even if his shirt was translucent in places from moisture and his warm-up jacket hung off one shoulder. Kuroo didn't move to straighten his clothes; instead he shuffled Bokuto's stuff back into his bag and called two sets of parents to let them know how the match had gone.

When the second phone call ended, he stood in front of Bokuto. "Well?" he said. "Get up."

Bokuto didn't move. Kuroo sighed, folding his arms and staring down at Bokuto's head. He'd started bleaching his hair this year, but that was the only thing that had changed about his friend. The rest was familiar territory.

Kuroo swiped a few stray water drops off the bench and then sat down beside Bokuto. He draped an arm around his shoulders, idly tugging the jacket up until it sat properly on Bokuto's broad frame. "Talk to me," he murmured.

The words prompted a small intake of breath. Bokuto turned his head away, silent. But Kuroo's patience had been honed by years of buffering Bokuto's temper, and even more time luring Kenma out of hiding. He was prepared to wait all night if he had to, and Bokuto knew it. So Kuroo just waited.

When Bokuto spoke his voice was rough and quiet. "Were you watching?"

"Yeah."

"So you know that it was my fault," he whispered.

There was a beat of silence. Then Kuroo said, matter-of-fact: "You kept getting blocked." 

Bokuto drew in a sharp breath and his head drooped. 

Kuroo shook him a bit. "Hey, I wasn't done. Every good wing spiker has a killer cross. So it makes sense that blockers would know how to deal with it, even if yours is one of the best in the country. That's why we're working on mixing it up, right?"

"I can't do a straight spike," Bokuto grumbled. "I tried and—"

Kuroo cut him off. "We're first years. Of course you're still improving."

"My team depended on me," Bokuto snapped, pushing at Kuroo's shoulder. Kuroo let himself sway with the gesture but then moved right back into place, his arm tightening around Bokuto.

"So you'll do better next time," Kuroo told him, his voice wryly fond. "You get better every time we practice, honestly it pisses me off."

Bokuto didn't lift his head or acknowledge the praise, but after a while his weight relaxed against Kuroo's side. In response, Kuroo lifted his hand to ruffle Bokuto's damp hair. 

"Hey," he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the far wall.

"What," Bokuto mumbled in response.

"Your bleached hair looks pretty cool."

Bokuto stiffened, and then he cleared his throat with an awkward little cough. When Kuroo bumped their shoulders together again Bokuto nudged back, and Kuroo let himself relax into a grin.

"Let's get something to eat," Kuroo said, pushing himself off the bench. "After watching you, _I'm_ starving."

"You gonna pay?" Bokuto said as he slowly stood up, catching his bag when Kuroo tossed it to him.

Kuroo raised an eyebrow as he opened the door. "You lost," he said. "Losers don't get free meals." Bokuto's face fell, but then Kuroo added, "If you manage to beat us in the spring tournament, maybe I'll think about it."

The last bit of worrying tightness left Kuroo's chest when Bokuto gave him a wobbly grin and hurried to catch up.

\--

"I think I'm in love with Bokuto," Kuroo said.

His announcement was met with the tinny clashing of the same background music playing on two different consoles. Kenma didn't look up until the pokemon from Kuroo's game had finished its evolution and he’d started a return trade.

"Okay," Kenma said when that business was taken care of.

"That's all I get," Kuroo said, flat. "'Okay.'"

"What else do you want me to say?" Kenma replied, starting up a feeling check.

Kuroo thought about it as the two of them tapped their screens in time. "I don't know," he replied. "But I basically just came out to you. Shouldn't you have some kind of reaction?"

Kenma's mouth twisted thoughtfully as he pressed his thumbs against the screen. "Why?" he said. "You're still Tetsurou."

The words were plain and soft-spoken, but Kuroo still felt a small bloom of fondness in his chest. "It's not weird?" he said.

Kenma shrugged again. "Love is weird."

The results of the feelings check flashed on the screen: _98_ , and a reward of 2 sweet hearts for them both. Kuroo closed out of the minigame, his hands trembling slightly.

"Okay," he said, and his voice sounded tight and small. He swallowed, then pushed his normal smile back onto his face. "Cool."

Kenma peeked at him from beneath his long bangs. "Are you gonna tell him?"

Kuroo sighed, flopping onto the floor with his DS held above his head. Kenma stretched out on his belly beside him, his feet kicking lightly.

"I should tell him," Kuroo said.

"Yeah."

A request for a battle flashed across Kuroo's screen. "Are you testing something, or do you actually want to fight?" he asked.

Kenma's lips curved into a faint smile. "Let's battle for real."

Kuroo's grin widened. "You got it."

"If I win, you have to tell Bokuto next time you see him."

Kuroo groaned. "Only if you'll breed me a zorua if I win."

"Deal," Kenma said, and their games flashed simultaneously with the start of the battle.

\--

Bokuto's room was a bird's nest. Kuroo couldn't remember a time he'd ever seen the desk's surface, and clothes were gathered in a puddle around the hamper—they tended to make it in only when Bokuto felt like throwing something. The wires of video game controllers snarled across the floor, and on his shelves were odds and ends that had attracted his attention, soda can tabs and seashells, feathers from a dozen songbirds.

It's no surprise that they usually ended up on Bokuto's bed, lying across the rumpled sheets and strewn-about pillows. Kuroo felt embraced by the warm, familiar smell that rose from the cloth, a soft scent that made something flutter in his chest.

Kuroo was propped up on one elbow and Bokuto was lying on his back beside him, laughing so hard that his voice had dwindled into puffs of air. _He's beautiful,_ Kuroo thought, and when the impulse flashed through his mind he just went with it, leaning down to cover Bokuto's smiling mouth with his own.

Bokuto's silent laughter shuddered into stillness. He didn't move until Kuroo pulled back, looking down at Bokuto as if nothing had happened.

There was a pause. Bokuto stared at him, wide-eyed, and then tentatively brushed a finger across his lower lip. "What was that for?"

Kuroo blinked once, a soft, deliberate lowering of his lashes. "I like you," he replied. The words left his mouth with surprising ease, leaving a rush of butterflies in their wake.

Bokuto rolled to sit up, expression curious. "What, like... you want to date?"

Kuroo shrugged. "Yeah, if you wanna."

Bokuto took a sharp breath. "Oh."

His voice didn't sound disappointed or unnerved, just surprised. His expression shifted as he thought, tapping his nails against the mattress through the in-between spaces of Kuroo's outstretched fingers. His eyes never left Kuroo's, large and golden and unblinking.

Kuroo stared calmly back, swallowing his nerves to the back of his throat.

After a moment Bokuto's expression flickered, and his gaze dropped to their hands. "Can you kiss me again?" he asked, quiet.

Kuroo blinked. "You want me to kiss you again?"

Bokuto was blushing, he noted with fascination. He watched the slow flush spread across his skin until it colored the tips of his ears. "Y-yeah," he confirmed, sounding a little breathless. "It was too fast last time. I didn't really..." He made a vague, wordless gesture.

Kuroo couldn't stop himself from smiling, and he watched Bokuto's face light up with a similar expression—shy nervousness clashing with excitement. "Yeah, I can do that," he said. "C'mere."

Bokuto swayed forward as if pulled by a tether, meeting Kuroo's mouth halfway. After the first jolt of surprise, he felt Bokuto's mouth soften under his own, felt it open and nip inquisitively at his lower lip. Kuroo jumped a little, then chuckled into the kiss.

Bokuto flopped back down onto the mattress and tugged at Kuroo until he was straddling Bokuto's hips. Everything with Bokuto was always easy like this, he thought. One small shift and then everything fell into place.

The familiar sensations—Bokuto's skin, the wrinkles of the sheet under Kuroo's knees, the midafternoon sunlight slanting warm across his back and forearms—were juxtaposed against the new feeling of Bokuto's hands curling around the back of his neck and brushing against his nape.

"You're awesome," Bokuto breathed, eyes glinting with a mixture of anticipation and daring.

"Speak for yourself," Kuroo replied, and leaned back in.

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't get the joke Kuroo makes during the shower scene, [it's this](http://famousadages.blogspot.com/2010/10/fools-never-catch-cold.html).
> 
> A feeling check in pokemon is [this](http://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/C-Gear#Feeling_Check).
> 
> Thank you to [Icie](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Icie), my beta.


End file.
